


Unity

by aDarkerKnight



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Angst, Clones, Kryptonite, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-14
Updated: 2008-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aDarkerKnight/pseuds/aDarkerKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can all that was split apart be reunified? (a sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/231013">Split Second</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unity

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [Split Second](http://archiveofourown.org/works/231013), in which Superman and Clark have been split apart by a black Kryptonite ray and made into two separate beings. You really ought to read that first, or this won't make much sense. ;)

Batman sat at his control station in the batcave, staring at the main computer screen, though the images it displayed barely registered. For the better part of the last hour he had sat there, eyes fixed on an invisible spot, while his mind was occupied with other tasks. Important tasks. Tasks like ignoring the small yellow LED on the communications panel, which started blinking again every few minutes or so.

Just when he thought he was safe from its taunting, the light flashed once more. Bruce closed his eyes, sighing in frustration, unable to truly ignore it any longer. He checked the numeric display under the light: six new messages. No need to listen to them; he knew who they were from. Each and every one of them. And if he knew Clark at all, the display counter would switch to seven very soon.

The light abruptly stopped blinking and the number immediately turned from six to seven. Bruce frowned, knowing that this meant there wouldn't _be_ a message; probably just a click and a dial tone. Curious, he hit a key combination on his keyboard, and the messages were played back through the console's speakers.

Of Clark's seven messages, only one actually had any words. The other six consisted of a sigh, a grunt, a frustrated sigh, the noise from the phone's handset being slammed back into its cradle, a shuddering breath, and a muffled sound that might have been a curse.

Message number five wasn't much more elaborate than the others were, but it sent chills right down Bruce's spine. All it said was " _Bruce, please..._ " in a wounded, almost heartbroken tone.

He erased the messages, but the words of his fifth message replayed in his head, over and over, in a maddening, continuous loop. For the next few minutes, Bruce remained as he was, eyes closed and unmoving. The words - the desperation - haunting him.

He opened his eyes resolutely, intent on leaving the batcave and escaping back to the Manor, when he saw the light start flashing again. He stared at it, unsure what he should do. Part of him fought to ignore the call, just as he had all the others, but another part of him felt increasingly guilty about doing just that.

Before he could reach a decision, the light stopped blinking. This time, however, the LED didn't turn off immediately - it stayed on instead.

For a second, Bruce stared at the yellow indicator light. This time, he knew, there _would_ be a message. He swallowed hard and, with a shaky, almost nervous hand, he hit the audio button so he could listen in without actually picking up the call.

"... please answer. I know you're there," Clark was saying. There was a pause, then a sigh. "Look, I really need to talk to you. I'd rather not do this on your stupid answering machine." There was another sigh; a frustrated one. "Fine, then! Look, I'm sorry. I was angry and I overreacted. I screwed up, okay? I screwed up and I'm sorry." A long pause and an almost shuddering breath later, Clark continued, sadness having replaced the annoyance in his tone. "Please, can we just...talk? Bruce? _Please?_ "

Despite himself, Bruce hit another button on the display, answering the call. "I'm here," he said simply, his voice lower and hoarser than Batman's usually was.

"You... oh... uh..." Clark stuttered, surprised. A very small, very shy, "Hi," was all he could manage after that.

"Hi," Bruce replied, equally uncertain. He cleared his throat and went on, "You wanted to talk?" 

"Could we... _not_ do this over the phone? I'd, uh, _fly_ over, but I can't do that anymore, so, if--"

"So you expect _me_ to come over in order to dump me in person?" Bruce retorted bitterly.

" _Dump_ you? No! I-- No!" Clark protested, taken aback. "Besides, aren't you and-- I mean, you made it plenty clear which of me had your favor. I expect the only reason I haven't gotten a Dear John yet is becau--"

"That laser really messed with your mind."

Clark gasped, insulted. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I'll be there in half an hour," Bruce told him, in a much softer tone. He cut the communication before Clark could respond, and headed immediately to the Batplane.

=:=:=

Clark's heart jumped right into his throat when he heard the short, assertive knock. He glanced at the clock and quickly headed over to the front door, which he threw open a little too eagerly.

"You're early," he said, matter-of-factly, before he could even realize the sheer stupidity of his words.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I could leave," he suggested. "Come back in a while so I'm fashionably late?"

"No!" Clark objected immediately. "That's not what I meant. Don't...leave." He moved out of the way, allowing enough space for the other man to come inside.

"Relax, Clark," Bruce told him as he stepped through the door and walked past him. "I didn't come all this way to turn right around and go home again."

Clark closed the door, hands shaking nervously, his heart beating furiously in his chest. He hadn't expected this meeting to be easy, but less than a minute into it and it was already proving to be a lot harder than he'd thought. His breath caught when he turned to face his guest and was met with a piercing gaze.

"I-- ah..." Clark started, a little breathlessly. He looked away, a blush creeping on his cheeks. "I understand, you know, if..." He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look the other man in the eyes. "If you preferred him. To me, I mean. Doesn't mean I--"

"I don't."

"--have to like it, but I--" Clark's eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"I don't," Bruce said again. "Prefer him to you. Why would you even think that?"

Clark stared at him for a moment, confused. "You were seen hanging around the city with him for days, Bruce. Yet you never came anywhere near the hospital. It seems pretty clear where your priorities were."

"I did come." Bruce tried to stay calm, but he didn't take well to being accused of not caring. Especially when he did. Especially when he'd made a point of being there. "I was there every night. _Every single night._ And I spent hours there. It's not exactly my fault you weren't conscious at the time. But that doesn't mean I wasn't around."

"Still," Clark argued, not yet quite convinced, "that doesn't change the fact that you teamed up with _him_. Publicly. You would never have done anything like that before - not with me. You can't pretend that it doesn't mean anything."

"Of course it meant something, Clark," Bruce answered flatly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "But it doesn't mean _that_."

"Then what _does_ it mean?"

"Clark... He needed to be _supervised_. The first night that Superman was out - by himself, without you as a part of him - the first night he was out, he almost killed a man with his bare hands. Almost choked him to death."

The shock was evident on Clark's face. "I didn't know," he said when he found his voice again.

Bruce shook his head. "No one knows. No one but him and me. And now you. After the accident in the park, _Superman_ was no longer in full control of his powers. And he didn't have you around to be his conscience, either. So I...stepped in. Batman tagged along wherever Superman went, because I'll be damned if I was going to stand here and watch him wreck everything you've worked for. The hero image - perfect, impeccable. Superman is supposed to be a beacon of hope, a light in the darkness. The world needs that - needs him. I couldn't let _him_ turn Superman into someone..." His voice caught for a second, and then he added, "Like me."

"I... Oh." Clark ran a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of everything he'd been told. "And I thought... Oh, I'm an idiot. I should have trusted you."

"Yes, you should have," Bruce said flatly. "After all this time, don't you think I can see that Superman isn't who you really are? That it's just something you can do? I don't care if you can fly or see through walls. You, however, seem to find these qualities a lot more appealing than I realized."

Clark stared at the man before him in complete confusion. "Me? What are you talking about? I don't--"

Bruce shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal, even as he felt his blood pressure start to rise. "I saw you. With him. Last night."

"Last ni--?" Clark stopped short, as understanding lit his features. "Oh, that."

"Yes. That. I saw you two..." Bruce made a vague gesture. "Together... I saw you."

"You mean you _watched_ ," Clark said in an accusatory tone. "You were out on a rooftop somewhere and you _watched_? Bruce?"

There was a flicker of anger in Bruce's eyes. "What do you think, that I sat there and... _enjoyed the show_? You think I wanted to see-- you and--" He let out a frustrated sigh before going on, "Do you have any idea what it _felt_ like to see you with someone else?"

"Now wait just one minute!" Clark protested. "He's not someone else. He's me. How is that in any way different than a... a... five-finger solo? He's _me_! I'd never dream of--"

"Right, so when _you're_ with him, he's you. But when you think _I am_ , he's someone else? How does that work out exactly, Clark?"

Silence hung in the room as the two men stared at each other, their anger and hurt reflected back in the other’s eyes.

"I don't know," Clark finally said. "I hardly know what's what anymore. Look, all I want - the reason I called you in the first place - all I want is to be whole again. I hate this, I want - I _need_ \- to be me again. And you're the only person I know who can help. You _have_ to help. Please..."

The intense, barely hidden pain in Clark's expression struck Bruce deep inside. He stepped closer and took his hand, squeezing gently, affectionately.

"I may have found a way to reverse the effect of the ray."

"Really?" A flicker of hope lit Clark's eyes. "You think there's a chance it'll work?"

Bruce nodded, marveling at how the tiniest ray of hope could make Clark's eyes shine so beautifully.

"I hope so," Clark said in a low whisper. "And once I'm back to being me -" he inched closer to Bruce, close enough to feel the heat from his body and the tickle of his breath on his face "- I hope we can be _us_ again."

"I want that, too," Bruce replied huskily as he leaned toward him.

It started as an uncertain, almost shy kiss, but one full of promise all the same. Hands found their way underneath shirts and sweaters, as bodies pressed tightly against one another. There was a long, throaty moan from Clark. By then they were kissing hungrily, as though they couldn't get enough, like a dying man of his last meal.

Neither of them heard the man who came in through the window and landed softly, quietly in the living room. They didn't notice him floating barely a couple of feet away.

"Is this a private party?" came a low, hoarse whisper.

Bruce pulled back, startled, his body tense and ready for a fight. He relaxed a little when he realized that the man who had spoken was Superman, instead of the villain he was expecting to have to subdue.

Superman looked from one man to the other, a wicked smile creeping across his lips. "Or can anyone join?" he asked.

A raised eyebrow, a suggestive smile, and a wink later, the superhero was pulled into a kiss, the duet having become a trio.

Bruce broke the kiss after a moment, the voice of reason having somehow found its way back into his brain. "I should get you into the lab," he said, his words punctuated by short, panting breaths. "Try the inverted Kryptonite laser..."

"Now?" the other two men asked simultaneously, an identical, confused look on both of their faces.

"Tomorrow," Superman said, his tone full of his usual authoritativeness. "We'll go tomorrow."

"Clark?" Bruce looked at him, his brows furrowed, expecting this half of the man to make the right decision.

"We could...wait," he started, hesitantly. "Until morning?" He ran his hand along the nape of Bruce's neck, and up into his soft, dark hair.

Bruce frowned, surprised by Clark's answer. "I thought you wanted--"

"We do."

"But...?" Bruce prompted.

"We'll go tomorrow," Superman offered, his tone still as assertive.

Clark leaned back toward Bruce, trailing kisses along his jaw, all the way to his earlobe. "Tomorrow morning," he whispered in his ear. "As soon as we wake up."

Bruce knew he was lost the moment Superman started mirroring Clark's actions, echoing his words. If he tried hard enough, he might have been able to resist one of the two men, but not both of them together. Not when he felt their hands on his back, their lips - the same soft lips - on his skin, not when he heard them both whispering to him to give in, to let go.

"We'll go tomorrow," Clark said after a moment, "Tonight is probably the last chance I'll ever get to experience what it's like to be an ordinary human being."

"You're not ord--"

"Shhh. Just this once, I want to know what it's like...to be vulnerable...in your arms."

Bruce groaned, eyes closed. Oh, he was definitely lost now. Before he could even think of protesting, he found himself sprawled on the sofa, two mouths trailing kisses at his collarbone along the edge of his opened shirt, four hands fumbling about with his shirt buttons and his belt buckle.

Later, as he watched both his lovers, tongues sliding slowly and languidly along the length of his erection, he couldn't help but ask himself whether he truly wanted to get them back in the lab in the morning. Conscious thought left him and he all but growled as their tongues intertwined and their lips met for a kiss even as they held him in their mouths.

=:=:=

Bruce deftly made adjustments to the laser emitter, making sure the optical beam would hit its target at a precise angle and radius. Meanwhile, Clark and Superman stood in another corner of the lab, shooting nervous glances at the machinery, at Bruce, and at each other.

"I think we're all set," Bruce told them. He would never admit to it, but he was just as nervous as the other two men were. What he stood to lose, should any piece of equipment malfunction in any way, was the one thing that was most precious to him - he'd never forgive himself for causing any harm to either parts of the man he loved.

Slowly, they made their way to a target that had been drawn on the floor. Holding hands, Clark and Superman took their position. They remained, their gaze firmly locked with one another's, while Bruce went back to the control station, behind the transparent aluminum shielding.

"Are you ready?" Bruce called to them through the speakers.

"Yes," came their replies simultaneously; voices unwavering, certain.

Their trust in his abilities should have made Bruce more confident, but it only made him that much more tense. They trusted him - trusted him with their lives. He mentally went through all his calculations again, just to be certain. He couldn't afford to let them down - not this time.

Bruce took a deep, calming breath, and hit the enter key. Immediately, the room was flooded in pure white light. There was a loud groan, and his heart almost stopped. His finger hovered over the abort button, ready to press it. A second later, the laboratory was left in darkness again. Bruce blinked and rubbed his eyes, stumbling towards the door, impatient to find out whether or not the experiment had worked as planned.

He all but ripped the door from the frame as he threw it open, his heart beating right out of his chest. He gasped at the sight he was greeted with. There, in front of him, stood not two, but just one single man.

"How do you feel?" Bruce asked him, relieved, though still nervous at the thought that the man before him might not have been made truly complete by the laser.

The only response he got was a weak "Uuugh."

Bruce ran, cursing under her breath as he saw him start crumpling to the ground. "Alfred!" he yelled, as loudly as he could.

But when he caught up with Clark, Bruce was shocked to find him smirking and not looking the least bit unwell at all.

"I was kidding, Bruce," he said, barely containing his laughter, and earning himself a stern glare.

"Not. Funny."

For all answer, Clark reached up and kissed his cheek.

"Not. Funny," Bruce repeated, though the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed his actual thoughts. "How do you really feel?"

"Super," Clark said simply, hovering a few inches above the floor, giving proof to his statement.

Bruce's eyes lit up. "Just the way I like you."

"Uh?" Clark looked at him, puzzled. "I thought you said... I thought the powers didn't matter--"

"They don't," Bruce confirmed, a rare, teasing smile on his lips. "I was kidding, Clark. I meant what I said - it's not your abilities I'm attracted to. But they are part of what makes you ...you. You wouldn't be complete without them."

Clark gave him a brilliant smile. "There's another thing I wouldn't be complete without."

"What's that?" Bruce frowned, uncertain.

"You," Clark told him simply and he leaned in for a kiss.

  
_~ The End ~  
_


End file.
